


you dream of the saints

by akaparalian



Series: Roy/Ed Week 2016 [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaparalian/pseuds/akaparalian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God, but the way the early morning light catches on Ed’s hair is never going to get old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you dream of the saints

**Author's Note:**

> Alas, it's day 7 of Roy/Ed week. (Although I guess this is technically a day 8 post... whoops. _That_ wasn't meant to happen. .___.) Things are drawing to a close, and for July 31st I chose the prompt "waking up together."
> 
> Title is from 'Red Ribbon Foxes' by A Fine Frenzy, a song which doesn't actually have that much to do with this story in particular, but I love the line the title quote is from ( _The son of a holy man / you dream of the saints / so thin, with your poet hands and your eyes of flame / and I'd like to kiss you / full on the mouth, I don't care if you tell_ ) and that song is The Most Roy/Ed. Seriously, go listen, it's gorgeous and everything about it fits them very well imho.
> 
> Anyway, it's been a crazy awesome week and I have very much enjoyed sharing it with you all! *salutes*

God, but the way the early morning light catches on Ed’s hair is never going to get old.

“Shut the fuck up, I can hear you being over-emotional from all the way over here,” Ed mumbles, still half-asleep.

Roy enjoys the way his smile spreads slowly across his face. “Good morning, Fullmetal.”

“ _Sleep_ ,” Ed insists, rolling over, his eyes still half-shut as he weakly glares across the scant foot or so of rumpled bed between them.

There are a few options at his disposal, Roy muses. He can take advantage of the fact that it’s a Sunday and go back to sleep until either Ed wakes up or he simply can’t sleep anymore; which one comes first is always a toss-up. Or, of course, he could always get up and start his day now -- there is, unfortunately, a spot of work in the study downstairs that he’s been putting off all weekend, and he knows Riza will absolutely not hesitate to resort to violence if he shows up tomorrow and it’s not completed.

Still. Both of those plans senselessly waste one very precious resource, to which even Roy has somewhat limited access: a sleepy Edward Elric.

“Get off,” Ed grumps as Roy sidles over closer to him, slinging one leg across Ed’s as he does so; his eyes had slipped shut, but they crack open again, his brow furrowed still in that sleep-tinged pre-coffee glare. Roy just smiles and kisses him softly, knowing his eyes will flutter closed again after just a few moments.

Ed huffs a breath when they break apart, still a little grouchy but looking significantly more amenable to whatever Roy has in mind. He scrunches his face a little bit, and they’ve done this exact song and dance enough times and Roy knows Ed well enough that he knows he’s struggling to decide between complaining about morning breath and going in for another kiss.

Luckily, it’s the latter, and Roy smiles against his lips as Edward tilts his head to kiss him soundly. It’s no challenge to roll and tug until Ed’s perched on top of him without breaking the kiss, and Ed makes an appreciative little noise deep in his chest and practically melts down into him, warm and still sleepy and with uncoordinated limbs sprawling everywhere.

“Good morning,” Roy repeats when Ed finally pulls away and sits up, intentionally-unintentionally pressing his hips down into Roy’s as he does so. (As though Roy hadn’t wised to _that_ little trick of his _years_ ago. Not that he’s complaining, of course, but he does wonder why Ed has yet to drop the facade.)

“Good morning,” Ed replies, and almost sounds like he believes it now. Roy bites down on a smile; it’s easy enough to deal with even the grumpiest of morning Eds if you know the tricks, and Roy has had many, many mornings in which to learn every last one.

“I bet I can make it better,” he purrs, to make Ed laugh much more than as any real attempt at sultriness. It works; Ed cackles at him and ducks down to kiss him again, evidently in an attempt to shut him up. That one works, too.

Ed pressing down into him and Roy’s hands gripping Ed’s hips where his sleep-shirt is riding up and the way both of them seem to be getting more and more interested in these proceedings with every passing moment: all of these are a loosely connected set of events that Roy drifts between easily, half leading and half being led, not quite awake enough to do anything with _real_ intent.

Well. Most of him isn’t, anyway.

A particularly pointed roll of the hips from Ed and a few more seconds’ deliberation on his own part are all it takes for Roy to break away from their soft exchange of kisses and trace an open-mouthed path down Ed’s neck instead, pausing to nip slightly at the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder in the way that never fails to make him full-body shiver. The shirt starts to get in his way before long, and he draws back just enough to work it up and over Ed’s head, a premise with which Ed wholeheartedly assists, before leaning back in to continue his attentions at Ed’s throat.

“Al’s going to give me so much shit tomorrow,” Ed sighs, no doubt starting to feel the sting of the little bruises forming all up and down his neck, and Roy dips down to press an almost-apologetic kiss to his collarbone.

“I thought we agreed not to talk about your brother in bed,” he teases, and Ed swats at him half-heartedly, a movement made even less impactful by the breathy, contented sigh he releases when Roy finally proceeds down his sternum.

He pauses for just a moment to flip them again, revelling in the way Ed’s hair fans out atop the sheets and in the way he looks up, eye half-lidded, mouth falling open just so. It’s all Roy can do to swallow hard and look away.

Roy’s intent on his destination now, though, and making good progress; he only stops briefly to scrape his teeth across Ed’s abs, because he always does, because he has to, because no matter how much noise Ed makes about being “mostly retired” and “sitting on my ass in a lab all day, Roy, I almost _never_ get out anymore,” his abs somehow remain perfect and impossible, and Roy would maybe hate him for it if he didn’t love him so damn much.

Ed’s hard, which is obvious through his plain black boxers, and when Roy glances briefly up at him again to check in, hunger has completely replaced the drowsiness in his eyes. Roy wastes no time in sliding the last remaining vestige of clothing off and over Ed’s hips and down to bunch around his thighs before turning his attention to more important matters.

The noise Ed makes at the first slick press of Roy’s mouth on his cock is never the same twice; this morning it’s a low, contented sigh, accompanied almost immediately by clever fingers winding their way into his hair, not tugging -- yet, and hopefully not at all on a lazy morning like this, but Ed has been known in the past to tear chunks clean out, which is, of course, an occurrence which is exceptionally unpopular with Roy -- and instead just stroking gently and carding through in a way that matches the leisurely pace of Roy’s mouth and tongue.

If there is one thing Ed has never quite mastered and likely never will, though, it’s patience, at least in this particular capacity, and it’s not long before the fingers in Roy’s hair begin to get a little more insistent, lacing around the back of his head and pulling him forward gently. Roy follows the motion easily enough; it’s nothing he’s not used to, seeing as Edward is as straight-forward in bed as he always has been in everything else, and truth be told he _appreciates_ it when Ed gets a little bit demanding; there’s something about it that makes his beautiful golden eyes absolutely burn. Not that he intends to ever let _that_ one out of the bag -- Ed hardly needs the encouragement.

The hot press of Ed’s cock in his mouth is familiar, but no less incredible because of it; the way Roy’s every move makes Ed’s face contort and rips deep, appreciative noises from his throat are just the same. He looks up through his lashes and considers: how motivated and athletic is he feeling at the moment? 

The answer, perhaps unsurprisingly, is ‘not very.’ So, when he pulls off of Ed and sits up, scooting forward and leaning over to press yet more kisses to his Adam’s apple, he simply shoves his own boxers unceremoniously off over his hips and takes both of their cocks in hand, rather than going for anything more involved.

“This all right?” he murmurs to Ed, just to double check, unsurprised when he gets a low moan in the affirmative. He smiles warmly, though Ed’s eyes have fluttered shut, so he won’t be able to see it, and strokes them both in a slow, steady rhythm, more concerned with enjoying this while it lasts than seeking completion. Judging by the way Ed bites his lip, and the way his hands are clenching and unclenching in Roy’s hair to the same tempo as Roy’s hands gliding over their shafts, he’d say Ed agrees.

He could get the slick off the bedside table easily enough, but it’s fine as it is, and Roy’s not keen on interruptions at the moment. He lets his own eyes slip closed, just for a moment, focusing on the heat that suffuses their points of contact, and then opens them again, because Edward is always beautiful but he’s rarely more beautiful than this.

They wander their way towards orgasm together; Roy watches with interest as Ed’s hips cant up more and more, all his tightly defined muscles straining towards Roy, towards his hand, his breath coming faster and faster, shallower and shallower. When he finally gasps out, “Come _on_ , bastard,” there’s nothing to do but smile and squeeze tighter, faster, with a little flick of his wrist on the up-stroke that makes Ed gasp and groan and come.

It’s not until after, when he’s staring half-mesmerized at the way Ed’s chest continues to flutter as he slowly winds down, that Roy realizes he came too. He almost wants to laugh at himself -- getting off on Ed’s happiness and pleasure. _Typical_.

“Are you awake now?” he quips, his own breathing still a little labored, when they’ve both taken a moment to revel in the afterglow and in the way that they are still pressed together at every point, their breath mingling. 

Ed hits him with the pillow, but he’s smiling, so Roy’s pretty sure that counts as a win.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can catch me on [Tumblr](http://akaparalian.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/akaparalian) if you enjoyed this story!


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